Drake, PI
by organanation
Summary: A Five Times and One Time story: Five times Paul Drake should have noticed there was something going on between Perry and Della (but didn't), and one time he shouldn't have noticed (but did).
1. Tears

_AN: This is yet another attempt to breath life into a worn-out trope: Five times when [one thing] and one time [the opposite]. Five times Paul Drake _should_ have realized Perry and Della were a couple and the one time he shouldn't have, but did. I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it. Shout out to my dear Valancystirling for her thoughts, encouragement, and comments as this story came together!_

Victoria Whiteside had been their first client, years ago. She wasn't ever a suspect in a homicide, just a widow with a will she wanted in the best of hands. Both Perry and Della had looked forward to Mrs. Whiteside's annual visits to update her last testament for the sweet smiles and bubbly laughter she brought with her.

Perry's heart had stopped briefly when Tragg mentioned her name-and had quickly resumed again when the Lieutenant informed them she'd been found in a park. Homicide had been involved as a matter of principle. The medical examiner had quickly determined natural causes, and Tragg had searched her belongings for ID. Perry's card was tucked in with her identification, with a penciled-in note to contact him in the event of illness or death.

Della wasn't one for tears, never had been. But she couldn't stop them that night, even with Paul and Tragg and Jackson crowded in Perry's office with them.

Three men offered the handkerchief out of their top pocket. One of them took her hand and pulled her close, allowing her to hide her face in his broad shoulders.

But he was just looking out for her dignity, of course. Perry was a gentleman, after all.


	2. Fire

She was in there, and he couldn't believe it. The building had just _exploded, literally exploded,_ and she was _in there_. Paul was about to go out of his mind. _He_ was supposed to be the one running after bad guys, not Della. If anything happened to her…He couldn't do anything except pace and stare at the building, barely breathing.

Perry was standing still beside him, still as a stone, waiting, watching...he seemed as if his whole world were crashing down.

Two firemen ran out, with Della doubled over and running between them. She was coughing, her face streaked with ash. Everyone in the area gathered around them suddenly, but she reached straight out for Perry, who caught her as she stumbled forward.

"Miss, Miss, we need to examine you," pestered one of the ambulance men.

"I want an explanation!" Tragg demanded.

"Sirs, please step back, this is still a dangerous area!" a fireman demanded.

"Lieutenant, suspect is on foot and we are in pursuit!" shouted one of the lawmen.

"God, Della, are you okay, please be okay!" Paul called, trying to reach Della through the throng of people.

Perry, though, was silent, as was Della. He had her face in his hands, staring into her eyes, searching her expression, mentally taking inventory of her.

"I'm okay," she murmured. Perry drew a shaky breath and dropped his hands to her shoulders for a moment before releasing her entirely.

"Take good care of her," he ordered as a medic led her toward the ambulance. "Take good care of her."

Paul couldn't blame Perry. Della was just about the most important thing in the world to both of them.


	3. Red Fountain Pen

"And this curve here…" he started, leaning over the desk to point out a part on the map. Paul paused awkwardly, looking at a spot on Perry's neck. "Anyway...this curve...okay, I gotta ask. What's that on your neck?"

Perry sat back, rubbing a hand over his chin.

"I don't know," Perry said, digging in his desk for the little mirror he kept for tying his tie.

"Had a woman in here?" Paul teased.

"Just Della."

"Looks suspiciously like lipstick."

Perry pulled his hand away and examined the red substance on his fingertips.

"Ah, yes," Perry chuckled. "I um, broke a red fountain pen this morning," he said.

Della walked in.

"What happened?"

"You know," Perry prompted. "The red fountain pen that I broke this morning? I must have smeared a bit on my face."

"Oh, yes, your...red fountain pen…" Della looked at him strangely. Paul just let it slide-all the ever did was share glances that meant everything to them but nothing to anyone else.


	4. White Shirt

Della was perched on the edge of Perry's desk, reading through a file and fiddling with the button at the edge of her collar. She was practically swimming in the garment.

"Is that a men's shirt?" Paul asked, looking at Della. She blinked at him.

"Is it a problem if it is?" she returned without answering.

"Just curious," he excused, turning back to the folder of information ahead of him.

The little embroidered _PM_ on the cuff was likely just a coincidence. There was _no way_ Della would be wearing Perry's shirt in the office.


	5. The Cabin

Perry had closed the office for a week. They were all taking a vacation: Gertie to San Francisco, Jackson to the East Coast, and Perry to his cabin in the hills. Della had been very secretive about her plans-Paul assumed she planned to stay at home for the entire week and sleep without fear of the phone ringing at odd hours.

Paul was tailing a cheating husband. He didn't usually take these cases, especially handle them himself, but the woman had been desperate...and rather pretty. Besides, the scumbag was terrible, and Paul didn't feel like following him anymore to see what else the creep got up to.

He'd tailed the guy within 20 miles of Perry's cabin, and Paul decided to stop by to see if he could interest Perry in a few beers down at the local watering hole.

Two pairs of shoes were on the porch-Perry's loafers, and Della's open-toe heels.

Paul found them out behind the cabin, snuggled together in a white string hammock. They both had their eyes closed, but he suspected Perry was awake as his hand methodically traced Della's spine where she was sprawled on top of him.

A twig snapped beneath Paul's shoe and Perry's head turned lazily and his eyes blinked open. His fingers lifted off Della's back briefly to greet Paul. Paul returned the greeting and Della stirred.

"Get too bored at home?" Paul asked her in a teasing tone. "Had to come up here and you didn't even bring me."

Della and Perry shared a significant glance, and Perry helped Della sit up.

"That's friends for ya," Paul continued, making himself comfortable on the porch steps. "You invite them to every party you ever throw, but they can't bother to give you a ring when they have a barbecue." Paul clicked his tongue. "I'm following a husband. Not a great guy, I might add."

He prattled on about his case for a few minutes.

"Anyways, I should be getting back to LA. Need a ride, Della?"

"I think I'll stay on a bit," she decided. Paul didn't see the smirk Perry didn't bother to hide.

"Good. Well, I'll see you on Monday," Paul said, rising and heading off around the cabin toward the road.

Della and Perry were quiet for a moment.

"That was…odd," Perry finally said.

"At least he didn't see my bathing suit," she replied, glancing down the hill to a clothesline where hung a two piece navy bathing suit with white polka dots. She settled against him again gently rubbing his arm.

"I'm beginning to wonder if Paul sees _anything."_


	6. Della's Coffee

_AN: And now, the one time he shouldn't have figured it out, but did._

It was very rare that Perry was in before Della. She liked to have a few minutes of quiet to get the office started before the chaotic whirlwind known as Perry Mason arrived. This morning, though, she wasn't there to pull the door open when Paul knocked. Perry wasn't sitting at his desk, but the door to Della's office-and the coffee maker-was open.

"Morning," Paul greeted. Perry was staring sleepily into the glass pot, watching the black gold drip down and collect. "Long night?"

"It was if it's morning," Perry muttered.

"Took that long to get that contract untangled?"

"Took till about 4. Della went home for a few hours of sleep and a shower. I expect her soon."

"Right. I've been flipping through the night reports. We can go over them when she gets here."

Perry nodded and covered a yawn. He poured some of the steaming coffee into a mug and dug in the cabinet for the sugar bowl. "Sounds fine."

"You develop a sweet tooth overnight?" Paul asked.

"I've always had a sweet tooth," Perry retorted.

"I didn't think you took anything in your coffee. You just put two heaping spoonfuls in that cup." Paul pointed to the cream ceramic mug on the counter.

"Hmm? It's Della's. She doesn't like it too hot," he explained, pulling out another cup and filling it full to the brim before taking a long drink.

"You know how Della likes her coffee?"

"You know how I like my coffee," Perry retorted.

"You're the Chief. I bet even Burger knows how you take it."

Perry looked at Paul strangely as the woman herself walked in.

"Good morning," she said. Paul was still staring at the cup.

"Morning," Perry said, passing her the mug. She took a sip and gave him a small smile before setting about her morning.

"You're together," Paul said plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Perry and Della looked at Paul, then to each other, and then back to Paul in perfect synchronicity.

"What?"

"Perry knows how you take your coffee," Paul said simply.

"Perry knowing how I take my coffee...means we're together?" Della asked.

"I'm a detective," Paul bragged.

Perry turned and looked at Paul straight on. "It was the coffee? Not..." he trailed off, to surprised to even come up with a list.

Paul shrugged. "Damning evidence."

Della shook her head.

"The _sugar_ in my _coffee_ is the damning evidence?"

"Sure. You make the coffee around here. He wouldn't know unless he paid attention, and he'd have no reason to pay attention unless he was trying to show affection. Special affection. And Perry doesn't show special affection to anyone," Paul explained.

Della looked at Perry, shaking her head again.

"You might need to find us a new PI. He's gotten too good," she teased, coming to stand beside Perry. He wrapped his arm around her.

"He knows our secret. We don't have to hide it anymore," Perry countered, smiling at her with a twinkle in his eye.

Paul gave an exaggerated sigh and walked toward Perry's office.

"I'll be in here when you two decide it's finally time to get to work," he joked, pulling Della's door closed behind him.

Perry and Della both laughed and turned to each other for a Good Morning kiss.

_AN: I'd love a review or two if you enjoyed this story, and I'd love to hear what you want to read next!_


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